


loveseed

by lovetheory



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-14 14:21:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28672167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovetheory/pseuds/lovetheory
Summary: Tobio feels like he’s been cordially invited to witness the truest part of Atsumu. The one where his heart is. Love strips you bare.
Relationships: Kageyama Tobio/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 4
Kudos: 90





	loveseed

Atsumu doesn’t have the mind to apologize for what he’s decidedly done; just releases a breath and takes one in through his mouth; repeats. Lets it form around the words, “I love you,” allowing it the space between them to fill. In front of him, a hairbreadth away, Tobio can’t keep his eyes away from Atsumu. In his head: an echoing. One word. ライバル。 Rival. And then: 接吻。 Kiss. He lets these words guide him to the reality that had been unfolding with the dark of the night. Atsumu kissed him and he kissed back through the haze of his mind. Atsumu said he loves Tobio, which would equate to the fact that he is in love with Tobio. The novelty of being known so as to be loved fills him; offers a hand and guides him through the truth of it.

“Say something,” Atsumu asks of him. Tips his chin forward so that the air that accompanies his words and the heat of it grazes Tobio’s skin. He enjoys doing this to Tobio, has observed him enough to understand he responds to touch well. The latter suppresses a shiver.

“I–” Tobio begins, “What do you want me to say?” A hushed panic gets those words out, partly bewilderment. He wants to get this right, wants to match Atsumu every step of the way.

Atsumu understands, mellows it down. Through tenderness: “Any true thing.”

His eyes are honest, mirroring the steadiness of his voice, words coming from a place inside him Tobio knows Atsumu’s most familiar with. Have his eyes always been this honest? Tobio feels like he’s been cordially invited to witness the truest part of Atsumu. The one where his heart is. Love strips you bare. Tobio is so boyish, still taken aback by everything. Words are lost to him.

The kiss had not only been an exchange of the feel of soft, tended lips and moisture, the former a characteristic so setter-like, because of course Atsumu takes care of his lips, just as Tobio takes care of his nails. And as Tobio takes care of his lips, Atsumu takes care of his nails. With the kiss came a buzz that settled under Tobio’s skin, this thrumming of new life, as though in that moment when Atsumu had kissed him, Tobio had been reborn. The buzz kicks up and it’s then that he takes notice of a fire inside him: alive.

“Your lips are soft,” he says, in this braveness that has come of the flames. And then, almost as soon as the words are out, a ridiculousness occurs to him. Surely Atsumu is expecting something else? An affirmation that his sentiments are returned. But Tobio knows so little, still, about love. So little, he wants to learn.

When Atsumu smiles, genuine amusement clear on his face, mixed with patience, Tobio knows his want is true, as true as Atsumu’s love. The latter asks, “Did you like me kissing you?” shifting from the topic in hand. And where he had led then, now, he follows: Tobio.

Responsive Atsumu.

“Yes,” Tobio says, because he did.

“I’m glad. Can I do it again?”

Considerate Atsumu.

“Right now?”

Atsumu chuckles, brings a hand up to the side of Tobio’s head, and rests it there. “Whenever you want.”

Loving Atsumu.

“Okay.” Tobio breathes, feeling himself lean into Atsumu as they stand in front of the bus stop, awaiting its arrival. Minutes add up to create hours, molding the night. Atsumu followed him here after their game. And when he caught up, he had lightly stirred Tobio towards him, hand on his shoulder, and given him a kiss on the lips.

Atsumu takes Tobio’s hand in his and brushes his lips on Tobio’s knuckles before planting a kiss in the center of them. He takes that same hand and tucks it into the front pocket of his coat, fingers tangled in his. “You’re cold,” he says, by way of explanation.

Tobio has never—not with a man, no.

He's never had his hand held like this, never had to think from the place of the person whose hand is being held. Always did the holding.

He's never been cared for, never had his skin and bones cradled within and against a palm, which was skin and bones too—the humanness of it wrapping itself around his heart and squeezing.

He's never been grounded by a touch till this.

Hands of past-everyones, faces that blurred into an acknowledgement of a time that has taken its course blurred into nothingness, its meaning that surely was there, stripped away.

He's never let his heart slip free of its reins, have it slide from his chest, let it travel to his arm and have it crawl through the walls of it, only to fit itself in his palm. He's never had a man hold his heart through the skin of his hands before. Never let them tend to it. Never been this close.

This close, they feel like one, like their skin had meant to touch. He thinks about things fitting, how things are taken into consideration in order to do so. Hand in hand. Human to human. He didn’t know why he was being ruminative now of all times, except he does, because the thought catches up to him almost immediately. First comes the foreignness of it, then comes the overwhelming knowledge of being cared for, the intention behind action. And the novelty of it fills him.

Atsumu holds Tobio’s hand in his, like he’s holding Tobio’s present and his future at once.

Tobio lets himself be held.

Responsive, considerate, loving Atsumu.

Under the ink black sky, shortly after the bus arrives, Tobio thinks, with conviction: He could love this man.

Atsumu catches his eye and smiles.

The thrum of new life under his skin makes its return and Tobio smiles back with notable ease.

**Author's Note:**

> talk to me, be my guest! [twitter](http://twitter.com/atsumukitas)


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